"It ain't like it used to be, but it'll do." - Elderly outlaw Freddie Sykes to aging bounty hunter Deke Thornton at the conclusion of

"The Wild Bunch"

UNLESS YOU WERE there, it can't ever be like it was in 1969.

And now, 26 years after it was first released, a new generation at last will have the chance to see director Sam Peckinpah's cut of "The Wild Bunch," which opens a two-week run Friday at the Castro.

This restored re-release should have happened last year, but Peckinpah's most honored film had to fight off a proposed adults-only re-rating and other corporate shenanigans, which took a year to overcome.

When I first saw "The Wild Bunch" at a sneak preview in the spring of '69, little did I realize the version unspooled that day for me and my father would be available only to European moviegoers and laserdisc collectors until 26 years later. When the film was placed in general release in the United States, 10 minutes were gone, partly to make it shorter, partly because of some Peckinpah-Warner Bros. studio politics.

As I remember, it was a normal 1969 spring day in the Central Valley. Fresh out of the Air Force, I was staying with my parents, who lived in Los Banos, until the start of fall quarter at Stanford, where I would attend graduate school on the GI Bill.

Having seen an ad in the Fresno paper for a sneak preview of Peckinpah's new western, my father and I decided to drive down for the event. A retired Navy man, he was a western movie buff, and knew Peckinpah had written TV westerns like "The Rifleman" and the well-received film "Ride the High Country."

I don't remember the name of the Fresno theater, but I do remember it was packed. William Holden and Ernest Borgnine were big stars, and there was an aura of mystery about just what Peckinpah, who even then had a maverick reputation, had put together.

But the film as shown that night turned out to be altogether unexpected - rivetingly realistic, edited in a gripping and exciting style unseen up to that time, and marvelously scripted. Viewers were overwhelmed and exited exhausted yet, for the most part, satisfied.

At the same time, I must admit another memorable part of the action that night was to see approximately 30 people get up and leave just 20 minutes after the start of the film. It was the opening sequence, one of the finest ever committed to celluloid, but so powerful that some people were literally forced to leave by the screen events, unable and unwilling to watch.

For the new generation and others unfamiliar with the film, "The Wild Bunch" is about a middle-aged gang of outlaws in 1913 who plan to rob a railroad office in a small Texas town.

The railroad, however, has been pursuing this gang led by Pike Bishop (a weathered, steely-eyed Holden), and his second in command, Dutch (Borgnine, who shows he knows how to underplay a role), and has set an ambush.

A former member of the bunch, Deke Thornton (a gaunt but dignified Robert Ryan), has been forced by the railroad to lead a crew of "gutter trash," as he calls them, in this ambush attempt as a condition of his parole from prison.

This sets the stage for the bunch, who ride into town disguised as a U.S. Cavalry patrol, to attempt the robbery and instead find the ambush.

The railroad, however, had neglected to inform the townspeople, and a temperance rally and march are being held at the same time the bunch arrive.

The chaos that ensues is brilliantly filmed by Peckinpah and cinematographer Lucian Ballard, who shot the action with cameras running at differing speeds, then incorporated the footage into a montage that puts the audience at the center of all the blood, death and confusion.

The rest of the film deals with the bunch's attempt to recoup from their failed robbery and to find their place in the changing circumstances of the 20th century West.

The tale is a bloody one, but in 1995, far more blood is spilled in five minutes of gore-fests like

"Reanimator," or "Tales From the Crypt" on HBO.

Back in 1969, only Arthur Penn's 1967 "Bonnie and Clyde" had ever put anything remotely similar on screen, and there the ballet-like dance macabre had come at the end of the film, not slamming the audience at the beginning (and middle, and end).

Audiences are more inured to a slam-bang style these days. But "The Wild Bunch" is far more than a slam-bang shoot'em-up. One of its enduring features is the outstanding screenplay by Peckinpah and Waylon Green, which was nominated for an Academy Award, (one of two nominations the movie garnered). Then there's the marvelous secondary cast: Edmond O'Brien as old man Freddie Sykes, with a tobacco-stained beard and a raucous laugh; Warren Oates and Ben Johnson as the simple but deadly Gorch brothers, and Jamie Sanchez as Angel, the youngest and most idealistic gang member. Movie buffs might also remember his role in "The Pawnbroker," another highly-regarded '60s film.

The most prominent of the "gutter trash" and a counterpoint to the Gorch brothers are Strother Martin and L.Q. Jones, who argue about who shot whom, and delight in cutting fingers off to get rings and stealing dead men's boots.

All these characters' motivations are made more clear by the director's cut. By restoring 10 minutes to the film, the complex story now fits together in a seamless way, filling in those gaps found in the previous theatrical release, and proving that Peckinpah was firing on all cylinders for this, his grandest achievement.

Seeing the film again, with its cleaned-up soundtrack and virtually spotless new print, the laserdisc version I have watched from time to time pales in comparison.

When the Bunch treks into Mexico, the hot, parched countryside seems to shimmer in the relentless heat. Jerry Fielding's haunting musical score only reinforces the drama that unfolds on the screen.

And the one overwhelming feature that the director's cut makes unforgettable are the many faces of the children, whether playing, singing, or cowering, much of the reaction to what happens on-screen is through the eyes, both innocent and imitative, of all the children.

As Peckinpah's biography makes all too clear, a fondness for booze and cocaine greatly diminished him toward the end of his career. But with "The Wild Bunch," this misunderstood director made a movie that deservedly has the reputation as a timeless classic.

No one can hope to go back and exactly capture a cinematic moment from 1969, but this restored version of "The Wild Bunch" is about at good as it gets.